


Just a Kid

by Fordanoia



Series: All My Fictobers/Writetobers [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (does this count as a kid fic?), Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - A Tale of Two Stans, Gen, Kid Fic, Paranoid Ford Pines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25471705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fordanoia/pseuds/Fordanoia
Summary: When Ford lifts from the air, Stan catches him. Not long after though, Stan mysteriously reverts into a child again.(Coming back to edit for organization)
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Series: All My Fictobers/Writetobers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845034
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	1. The Eye of the Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fictober19/Writetober: Day 6.  
> Scorched. “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”  
> Stan manages to catch Ford from falling through the portal.

_It would have been better if he didn’t catch me in time._

Of course, he felt stupid afterwards for the thought. Of course, it was better Stan caught him. Even in the moment of when Stan had been fast enough to catch him before he floated far away, and strong enough to pull him back out of the pull of the portal too, he’d felt beyond relieved. 

His rough reunion with the ground, and safety, was enough to pull his mind back out of the panic it had set into when he’d initially started floating backwards. Now the two of them were slowly getting up from the ground, catching their breath from the dangerous experience that was gone just as suddenly as it had arrived. Really, it had been their own fault, fighting in the control room, but he had missed the portal activating and he could only guess Stan had as well. At the very least, even if he noticed it turning on, he didn’t think it was dangerous until Ford was floating midair.

Regardless, the only reason Ford had that thought now was because of the current awkward situation, set between the situation that had scared both of them and the argument that hadn’t been resolved. 

He could just as easily thank Stan as he could jump back into the bickering from before as if nothing had happened. Stan calling him the selfish one, blaming him for what happened to his life, ‘some brother you turned out to be…’ 

“What the Hell was that?!” Stan said, before gesturing back to where the dormant portal was now sitting, perfectly quiet.

“That’s-!” Ford snapped at him without thinking, but stopped as he could now see the glowing red outline scorched into Stan’s back, burnt completely through the hoodie and shirt he was wearing.

Stan had his other hand going over to hold onto his shoulder above the injury, and now he crossly looked back at him. “What?” He said, quickly getting upset. “No, come on, what is it, huh?”

“Your back, it’s-”

Stan cut him off dryly. “Yeah, _I’m aware_. Your point?”

Ford simmered, but did his best to let the tone agitate him. Ford had been the one to accidentally burn him, he wasn’t going to very well yell at Stan for his attitude on the no doubt intense burn.

“What were you going to say, cause I know that wasn’t it.” Stan’s voice jabbed through the air, on the brink of returning to yelling again. “Come on, I wanna know. I wanna hear it, Ford.” 

It was frustrating and Ford just wanted to yell it at him. Get it through his head **_why_** hiding the research was so important, **_why_** he’d needed Stan’s help, _why_ -

Why this was all on the edge of disaster and on top of everything else the last thing he needed was another fight.

“What? Now, you’re going to clam up?” Stan scoffed derisively.

“That…” Ford started, quick to interrupt before Stan could say something that would no doubt have launched his last bit of patience into space, renewing the fight. He avoided looking at Stan to concentrate on his own words. “That’s why I wrote you for help.” 

“Ford, you know that’s not what I meant.”

He glanced back at him, “It’s an inter-dimensional gateway. I- I thought I told you that.” 

Stan visibly slouched. “Why’d that happen, Ford? I meant why’d that happen.”

“Oh, right.” Ford looked around briefly for the journal and went to pick it up as he explained, hiding it into his coat pocket for safe keeping. He didn’t know what to do about it right now, but he didn’t want Stan to immediately take it back only to resume trying to burn it again. “Well, we must have knocked enough controls around to activate it again. When it’s on, gravity reverses in close proximity to the portal.” He nodded to the caution line. “Anything past that gets caught in its pull.”

Stan glanced back to the portal. “… So you really would have got shot out into the middle of space.”

“Well, into a different dimension, but close enough.”His brother hadn’t quite pulled his gaze off of the portal yet, and Ford continued hoping he wouldn’t ask anything else about the destination. “That has to be a third degree burn on your shoulder.”

Stan’s shoulder stiffened slightly, as if mentioning it was enough to make it hurt more. “Yeah, what about it?”

Ford sighed. “Stanley, I’m sorry. Just… please let me patch it before the debris from down here can cause an infection or worse.”

“Wait. What do you mean ‘worse?’” He questioned, finally looking back at him again.

“Well, there is a lot of radioactive materials down here.”

“Jesus Christ, of course there is.” Stan laughed for a moment, running a hand over his face.

“Although, that wouldn’t really make much of a difference with or without a wound.” He continued reassuringly.

A crooked smile briefly flashed across Stan’s face. “Well… that sounds great.”

“I’m more worried about debris.” In regards to the burn, at the very least. “I should have a first aid kid upstairs.” He said, moving back towards the elevator.

“… Alright.” Stan conceded, following after him.


	2. Activation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fictober19/Writetober: Day 7.  
> Moon. “No, and that’s final.”  
> Ford bandages Stan's wound from their fight, but things goes awry.

Bandaging Stanley’s wound went relatively well, though perhaps only because neither one of them talked beyond basic exchanges. ‘This is going to sting.’ ‘You done?’ ‘So how many limbs am i losing?’ 

The last one, admittedly, made Ford smile a little, although there was a part of him worried about the wound still. Even if he had picked up the magic of the sigil, as the orange glow indicated, it was a protective one so if it did anything it should be to help him. 

After they went downstairs and Ford handed him a painkiller medicine, he expected them to break out of the silence immediately. They didn’t. Though it was only a matter of time.

Ford realized why Stan avoided talking for just a few moments, probably stalling on time for the stinging pain from the medicine on his shoulder to die down before another fight potentially flared up with more injuries or going out into the cold that could feel good, but most likely would be an unpleasant minute until his car warmed up.

Why Ford himself didn’t just get it out of the way though, especially when he didn’t have the time? … What was he doing? Maybe it was some belated hope that Stan might change his mind about taking his research to hide it, except nothing had changed so there was no reason for him to think that might happen.

He heard a distant hum like the portal that he was sure he was imagining again, because it couldn’t be active and it was just his mind replaying what had happened downstairs. That could have done something. He should be checking on that instead of just sitting idly by-

Light flashed and Ford’s eyes shot open, first recognizing that they had been slipping closed which was always a bad sign, then noticing the kitchen lit up with dim yellowing light from above the kitchen sink then dark with a triangular shape of moonlight from the small window falling onto the floor in front of him. 

Finally, he noticed Stan, who was beside the light switch flicking it back and forth, leaving it on when Ford looked at him. He raised an eyebrow at him and let his hand fall back down again.

Ford quickly felt his breathing returning to normal. “Why did you do that?” He asked tiredly.

“Well, saying hey wasn’t waking you up and I was already over here.” He said with an unbalanced shrug. 

“…I was asleep?”

“Looked like you were getting there.” Stan answered nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

Ford straightened up, and ran his hands through his hair, harsher than necessary for some painful stimulation to confirm that he was really awake right now. Everything since Stan had arrived had left him with far less mental energy than normal to manage any nightmare scenarios, which was really saying something considering his average mental energy these days.

The words came out of Ford’s mouth as soon as he thought them. “You need to go.” 

Stan stopped breathing for a moment, and after a beat his breath came out with a word. “ _What?_ ”

Ford tried to think of a million explanations and his thoughts crumbled onto one another uselessly. “I have to work and you don’t want to be here.” 

“Who said-” but as soon as Stan started, he just as quickly stopped himself and shifted, his stance widening as he pointed at Ford. “You know what, you’re the one that asked me to come here and one minute later you ask me to leave. You didn’t want me here, I don’t care. I don’t-” He took a step forward, and harshly repeated himself. “I don’t care, Ford! Hell, I couldn’t care less even, but you don’t call me here then send me away because you suddenly don’t even want me here at all!”

“How could you-” Ford grumbled before matching Stan’s level of noise. “I didn’t change my mind! I needed you here to take the journal and hide it! How is that- How-?” He laughed in disbelief at Stan, at this entire situation, at how he was having this argument in a series of events that shouldn’t have ever happened. “Why are you-?”

“Because I came all the way out here, and now all you want is to never see me again!!”

“I didn’t say that!!”

“You told me to go as far away as possible!”

“I wanted you to take my RESEARCH as far away as possible!”

“Then hire a fucking mailman!!” Stan shouted, swinging his arms out wide, a restrained cringe in his expression.

Ford put his hands against his head that was mere seconds from bursting and his surroundings swinging back and forth, glaring down at the floor.

Stan audibly sighed, taking quick steps to his left then back again to his right back in front of Ford, breaking where the moonlight fell onto the ground. 

Ford couldn’t help but notice how Stan was faced towards the hall though, ready to walk away, _ready to leave, ready to-_ “You don’t want to help me, that’s fine.” He should have known. He should have- Ford continued, refusing to look up. “I don’t need you to take the journal.” 

“Just let me…” Stan’s hand started to lift from his side, and Ford saw it- Stan taking the journal and burning it, just to get back at him, burning away years of his life, the only years worth anything.

Ford interrupted before he could finish the sentence, finally looking up with a venomous glare. “No, and that’s final.”

Stan withdrew his hand, eyes wide, and took a short step back. A brief silence before he would no doubt snap at him about his ‘dumb mysteries’ again. 

Except that never came because within that short second the glow off of Stan’s shoulder shined bright enough that Ford could see the orange light mingling with the moonlight, and Stan’s legs apparently giving out underneath him as gravity suddenly pulled him straight down.

“Stanley?!” 


	3. What Comes Up...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fictober19/Writetober: Day 7.5.  
> No Prompt  
> Smol Stan  
> [CHAPTER SUBJECT TO CHANGE]  
> This is what I had, but if I ever pick this fic up again I will probably rewrite this scene (and include this original draft in a scraps chapter).

Ford launched himself downwards in a sudden panic, trying to catch onto Stan’s arm before his brother fell entirely. The moment his hand began to close around Stan’s forearm though a burning shock ran up his own arm and he spasmed, grip loosening enough to let Stan go. Albeit, he continued his descent not entirely alone as Ford lost his balance and tipped forward.

Ford arms took the brunt of his fall in a last minute effort to not completely face plant onto a splintering floor.

“Stan?! St-…” He pushed himself up onto his knees, hastily fixing his glasses so he could assess the damage and help Stan be-… before…

Stanley was short- well, smaller entirely now, like he had shrunk. After another second it seemed clear that he wasn’t getting any smaller now. It took Ford a second to stop looking at the tiny details, loose hanging clothes and a different haircut, to actually see the big picture. Stan looked like a kid again, like when he had been 11 or 12 if Ford had to guess. 

This wasn’t real.

It wasn’t. He’d fallen asleep and Bill was turning it as quickly as he could into a nightmare, and Ford hated to admit it, but he wasn’t ready for it. Recognizing it now just made him feel like a deer suddenly realizing the headlights right in front of him, too late to get away. 

The young Stan was staring at him with a tight lipped expression.

Making sure to keep his face calm, Ford drew back, grabbing onto the chair behind him without taking his eyes off of him. When he saw him opening his mouth he was prepared for Bill’s voice to come out, and a phrase ran through his head that he ignored ‘Some brother you turned out to be.’

“I didn’t do it.” Stan said with a panic, putting his hands up, then realizing his hoodie’s sleeves covered his hands. “I wasn’t even here.”

“Wh-” Ford stopped, thrown off. “Wait, what?”

Stan calmed down and pulled the sleeves up so his hands could pop out. “Uh, I mean why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t do it.” 

Ford just watched him for a second, his worry momentarily dissipated as he tried to figure out what exactly was going on. 

He’d expected something either accusatory or rejecting from him. If this was a dream then why had Bill not already pulled the rug out from underneath his feet like he usually did? Everything was too stable and he was too lucid for this to be an ordinary dream outside of Bill’s influence. It made sense for this not to be a dream, especially considering his fingers were still store from the earlier shock. So if this was reality, then why was Stan suddenly a kid again? What happened? The only way forward was, more or less, to figure that out.

Ford focused back around him and realized Stan was glancing around the room for something, hiking the loose pants up high with a hand. 

“What are you doing?” Ford asked.

“Looking for my brother. You seen him?”

Ford felt suddenly and distinctly hollow. He opened and closed his mouth, but he didn’t even know where to start.

“What?” Stan turned towards him.

“Ah…” Ford glanced away from him, trying to focus. Even just having him in his peripheral was scrambling his thoughts.

Stan didn’t give him any time to think though. “Hey, if you don’t tell me where he’s at then him and me are going to rat you out”

Ford couldn’t help, but look back at him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said I’m blackmailing you.”

Ford felt himself smiling and couldn’t help a laugh of disbelief, exasperation, and every other emotion he still hadn’t had even a second to actually process. 

“Hey! I’m serious here!”

“I know you are…” Ford said tiredly, taking a deep breath. “Stan? What’s the last thing you remember? Before you saw me.”


	4. Rose Colored Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fictober19/Writetober: Day 7.5 The Sequel.  
> No Prompt  
> This is definitely not New Jersey and Stan is face to face with some really tired looking old man.  
> [CHAPTER SUBJECT TO CHANGE]  
> This is what I had, but if I ever pick this fic up again I will probably rewrite this scene (and include this original draft in a scraps chapter).

To be honest? Stan didn’t know who this even was. He looked too much like Pa though for him not to be related. Well if Pa didn’t wear suits and forgot to wash or shave. Stan’s best guess was that he was some older cousin or second cousin once removed twice joined, something like that. He didn’t remember seeing him before.

Except, he didn’t really remember much of anything around him right now. Not the messy kitchen, and he definitely should have remembered getting into clothes way bigger than him, or where he was at. He could see snow falling outside, which meant it definitely wasn’t Summer.

The guy took a deep breath, looking beyond tired which was all the more reason for Stan to not stick around him. “Stan? What’s the last thing you remember? Before you saw me.”

“I was making myself a sandwich, that’s all. I didn’t do nothin’.” Stan lied easily, well the last part might not have been, but he pretty sure it probably was. He tied the top of the pants into a knot so they’d stay up and rolled up the sleeves and pants legs before getting up.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I’m just-” He stopped, grimacing like he was already fed up with Stan. 

There was something fishy about the way he avoided telling him where Ford was; like he knew, but didn’t want to tell him. If the guy had been a jerk he would have guessed it was because he locked Ford into a room or something like that, but it didn’t feel like that which gave him a bad feeling that Ford wasn’t okay and the guy just didn’t want to tell him outright. Or maybe Ford was somewhere else. Stan tried not to think about either of those options for too long though, all he had to worry about was finding Ford then everything would be alright.

Just as Stan was thinking about banging into every room in the house, the guy asked him another question.

“What year do you think it is?” He asked without looking at him, dead set on staring at the kitchen table behind him instead, one hand holding onto the side of his face like he was just barely keeping himself from an urge to cover his face entirely.

Stan stopped, thinking this was some precursor to some unjustified scolding, but the expression on his face wasn’t right. “Uhh…”

He seemed unwilling to look right at him, not even angry, but like there was something about Stan that made him not want to look at him. Instead of getting mad when Stan unanswered, he got visibly more tense and uncomfortable with Stan looking at him without saying.

“What year do you think it is?” Stan asked, turning the question back around on him.

“I know what year it is.”

“Great, so do I.” 

“Stanley, it’s 1982.” He said, getting it out quickly. “It’s not-” he briefly glanced at Stan’s face before glancing away again- “62 or- the early 60s.”

He’d time travelled into the future. He went from completely silent to bubbling with excitement within the span of a second. “Prove it.” Maybe he’d accidentally found an old relic on the beach that actually brought him to the future, or some mysterious artifact in the pawn shop. Or time ghosts-!

The guy let out a breath, looking around and finally standing up. “There’s- I don’t know, there’s-” he pushed his glasses up with a hand to rub at his eyes. “You can see the forest out that window, we’re not in New Jersey. I don’t have time to look for a calendar-”

“Wait! Where’s my brother?” He forcefully asked again, harshly cutting him off.

Stan caught the pained expression that crossed the guy’s face, and how he tensed up like he’d just been given a particularly hurtful insult. “He’s- fine, but you-” The guy said evasively as he quickly went to fold his arms behind his back in a gesture that Stan immediately recognized.

Stan tuned out whatever he was saying and grabbed onto one of his arms to stop it and see his hand. He let go again once he was able to count the six fingers. “Ha!” He grinned back up at him. “I knew it was you, Ford!”

Instead of returning his excitement though, Ford just looked uncomfortable. “There’s more than one person with polydactylism.” 

“Yeah, but what are the chances of more than one being as big of a nerd as you?”

Ford scoffed, with a hint of a smile. 

“Hey, so what’s going on anyways?” Stan asked. “You look like…,” he glanced him over, “you look like what people feel when they say they need a vacation.”

He shook his head, still avoiding looking at him. “I’m- I’m- what’s important right now is that this is dangerous,” he said pointing at the ground between them. “You…” he seemed to flounder a bit. “I do not know how to fix your current situation.” He said each word just a bit too carefully to sound normal.

“I only just got here, I don’t wanna go back right away anyways!” He objected. “Besides what’s so dangerous about this?”

“Being in this house is dangerous, in this city. Stanley, you have no idea what’s going on!”

“I asked you what was going on! Look, Sixer, just tell me-”

“ _Don’t!_ ” Ford interrupted him with a venom that came out of nowhere, and finally looking at him again.

Stan glared up at him. All he’d been doing was just asking to know what was going on. He’d expect Pa to yell at him for stupid questions, but Ford shouldn’t have… 

“I’m- I’m sorry.” Ford said, once again glancing away again though now guility at least. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Well, you did anyway.” Stan grumbled, crossing his arms and not looking at him. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He said.

Being suddenly in the future with an older version of his brother should have been fun. “… Why do you keep avoiding looking at me?” He finally asked, pushing back the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

There was a beat of silence… then another. Finally, he saw Ford getting down onto a knee and Stan looked over at him where Ford had put himself back to be at least close to his same eye level. 

This close, Stan could see the purple tint of the veins under his eyes. “Stan.” He said, looking straight at him. “It- It is terrifying that you’re here like this.” 

“What? Why?”

Ford paused. “Because… the longer you’re here the more likely something bad is going to happen to you. As an adult, you would be able to protect yourself, if you were on guard. Sometimes even then- even then you shouldn’t be here.” He cleared his throat, continuing. “As a child, without your usual strength, if you encounter…” He started hesitating.

“What? What is it?” Stan asked earnestly. “Hey, if you don’t tell me what it is then I’m not gonna know it when I see it. Is it like a monster?”

“… yes. Yes, it’s like a monster.” Ford looked down. “You were- I was going to ask you to take some of my research away, but then-” He looked back up, and gestured at him.

“Wait a second.” Stan said. “Okay, first off that doesn’t make any sense. Second off though, where am I?”

Ford blinked. “Oregon. We’re in Oregon.”

“No, no I mean the older me that’s here.”

“That is you. You are you. Wait-” Ford paused, confused. “I mean, there is no ‘older you’ because the older you turned into you right now.”

“That clears up nothing.”

“I am very tired, give me a moment.” Ford covered his eyes, then blinked hard. “Alright. Some magic sigil reacted with you and turned you into a child.” He finally said, gesturing at Stan at the end.

Stan glanced over at the boots that had been too big for him. “Oh.”

“Precisely.”

“Okay uh, how do I turn back then?” Stan asked, looking back at him.

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck.”

Ford halfheartedly laughed, pushing on the floor to stand back up, and stumbled just slightly, grabbing onto the counter top for balance. 

Stan watched him for a second. “Are you okay…?” 

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.” Ford said. “Listen, Stanley, I need to go check on some machinery downstairs. Can you stay?”

“Why can’t I just come down with you?” Stan asked.

“Because- because the magic sigil tis downstairs and I don’t know yet what would happen if you got near it again.” He said, lying _badly_.

“Uh-huh.”

Ford let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “I won’t be long,” he said. “Just stay here, and whatever you do _don’t_ go outside and if you hear anything _or_ anyone outside then yell for me right away.” He told him, beginning to walk off, and abruptly stopping to turn back towards him again. “And- Just please, promise me if you even think you hear something you’ll get me.”

“Jeez, relax, I promise.” He waved him on.

Ford hesitated, but left quickly moving down the hallway.

He didn’t know how long he’d take, but hell this gave him time to look around to figure out what the monster was.


	5. [Scraps]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fictober19/Writetober: Day 7 and 8 scraps.  
> These are some of the rewrites I did for the other scenes.  
> This series was something I wanted to do more with and since haven't. I'd rather have what's here for myself than just delete it because it's incomplete though.

As it turned out his first aid kit was ‘lacking’ to put it kindly. Practically empty would have been a better way to describe it, but lately situations didn’t lend a chance to even be phrased in a positive manner so Ford resolved to at least do so now. 

The first kid was lacking bandaging, most of its bandages, every ointment, and a few minor list of other essentials.

“Some bandaids and a pair of broken scissors.” Stan commented.

Ford cleared his throat. “There’s some safety pins in here too.” 

“Right, right, you’re right. Let me start over. Some bandaids, broken scissors, and a few bent safety pins.”

Ford set the safety kit down onto the bathroom counter. “That’s okay. All I need is some clean cloth and enough chemical to clean the burn.”

“Why are these bent anyways?” Stan asked, picking up one of the safety pins that was, of course, bent into the shape of a triangle.

He waved a hand, brushing off the question. “Just stay here one moment.” He said shortly before leaving Stan in the bathroom. An alcohol to clean with, was easy enough to find. The clean cloth on the other hand… 

———— NEW START ———–

“How do you get supernaturally burned?” 

“Well- evidently with a hot plate of metal that had a sigil carved into it.” 

Stan had to look over his shoulder to see the glow in the mirror, while Ford stood on his injured sign observing the burn. 

A red tint to the skin was ordinary for a burn, an orange glow that took up a very particular design was not. On the bright side, it didn’t look like there was any blistering with the surrounding burn even though it probably should have.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s doing anything…” Stan said. “Besides feeling like any other kind of burn.”

“You see it glowing too, right?” Ford asked, needing to be sure that his sleep deprivation wasn’t getting the worst of him.

“Of course, I can. I’m not blind. I wouldn’t mind it as much if it wasn’t burning still.” Stan said. “So… what’s it going to do?”

Ford didn’t answer. His mind coming to a blank.

“Ford, what’s it going to do?” Stan asked again.

He adjusted his glasses, stalling for time. “Well, ah… judging by the shape and- well the location shouldn’t matter too much, unless it does… it should ahm…” He tapped his fingers against his lips.

Stan looked over at him. “You don’t know.” 

“I don’t know.” Ford admitted. “A few- some months ago I etched several different sigils into countless places. None of them had worked though! It should be some kind of protection or act like a ‘security alarm,’ but most of them weren’t precisely clear on their purpose”

“Did you try branding yourself with any of them?”

“I- no, but evidently I should have.” It apparently worked with this sigil.

Stan stopped to look at him. “Hey, so what I said was a joke-”

“-Right, right, no, of course. Of course, it was.” Ford pushed a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes, pushing against closed lids. He took a breath and opened his eyes again. “There’s no way to know for certain what this will do until something attempts to harm you.”

“Sounds like a bad excuse to try and punch me.”

Ford grit his teeth, taking a deep breath in through his nose. “Leaving it exposed can’t be helping.” He said simply before binding the remains of a clean cotton shirt around the wound. The sooner he got this done the sooner… he didn’t know, the sooner the problem would go away? He hadn’t come up with any solution. Maybe the sooner he could get some space to at least think about what to do now. Between Stan’s injury which could just as easily turn out to be something harmful for all he knew and what to do about the journal now- he just needed to think.

———— NEW START ———–

A red tint to the skin was ordinary for a burn, an orange glow that took up a very particular design was not.


End file.
